shannys_corner | beauty of the beast ~ epilogue (Reply)

The moon is high in the sky, bright and full, and Arthur stands at the window to look out at the road that leads to the castle. Eames’ hands rest on Arthur’s side, lips ghosting over the join on his neck and shoulder, and Arthur leans back into the touch.

“You shouldn’t do that,” Arthur murmurs, placing one hand over Eames’ to keep it from sliding too far down. “Not when we’re waiting on visitors.”

Eames chuckles, his breath tickling the nape of Arthur’s neck. His hands go up to rest on Arthur’s shoulders and his voice is a touch more serious when he asks, “How are you tonight?”

“It’s a full moon night,” Arthur says, and though this would have said enough just a few months ago, his voice is just a little halting this time. He sighs and Eames can feel the muscles relaxing beneath his hands as Arthur continues, “I have you, though, don’t I? My rose hasn’t lost a petal for the past twelve months.”

It sits uncovered in its usual place, glowing from within the bell jar, and they both look at it. There are only twelve petals left on it. One for every month that has passed with Eames staying at the castle, with Arthur learning how to smile, how to relax, how to go out and not care who sees him as he is.

He still has his horns, his claws, his tail; everything, but he is not cursed. This is who he is; he knows it, Eames knows it, and that’s all that matters to either of them.

“I thought I’d die today,” Arthur mumbles, looking at his hands.

“Not any time during the past year, I’d hope.”

“Before that. Before you.” Arthur turns around, pulling Eames close, and they fit together with a comfort that comes with spending so much time together; learning how to avoid Arthur hurting Eames by accident. It had been difficult—for both of them—to learn to share space, but it doesn’t show now.

They pull apart just in time to see the stagecoach approaching the castle. Ariadne sits on the driver’s box, holding the reins in one hand and waving up at the castle with the other. Eames waves back through the open window, leaning out as far as he can without falling. Arthur holds onto the back of his shirt anyway, pulling him back in once the stagecoach is out of sight, having gone around to the stables.

“You know I won’t fall,” Eames grins as they put their coats on, making sure they both look presentable.

“I do,” Arthur smoothes Eames’ lapels and then grins at him. “I just prefer knowing that it’s because I won’t let you. We both know how good you are at getting yourself into trouble.”

“Honestly. I get captured by a coven once and you never let me forget it,” Eames says with an exaggerated pout.

“I was actually referring to the time you decided to go exploring the wolf dens in the forest because you thought your shift would fool real wolves.” Arthur’s crimson eyes are bright with amusement. “And we won’t go into the fact that you carry out large-scale heists for the fun of it.”

“I don’t see you stopping me,” Eames smirks. “Besides, the magical artefacts go to the Spinning Top—which you’re a member of, in case you’ve forgotten—and all of those wonderful first edition hard covers go straight into your library.”

“Our library,” Arthur corrects, pressing his lips to Eames’. “Come on, we’d better get downstairs.”

For several months now, the Cobb family comes to the castle for dinner. It had initially been a decision between Eames and Ariadne, and though Arthur had come to terms with his curse and bore no resentment towards Mal, it has taken some time to reach the point they are at now. Mal and Arthur greet each other warmly; they’ve made friends easily now that Arthur has learned to stop hating magical beings. He’s similarly friendly with Ariadne and while Phillipa is still learning to overcome her fear of his horns and claws, James has decided that he likes Arthur, gurgling happily at the sight of him.

“You look much happier now,” Dom says, once they’ve finished eating. Phillipa and James are asleep and the rest of them have relocated to the large den; another of the many rooms in the castle that Eames has cleaned out and redecorated.

“I am,” Arthur says, feeling warm for a reason that has nothing to do with the crackling fireplace or the wine glass in his hand, and everything to do with Eames sitting beside him. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this pleased about being wrong.”

“About love?” Mal asks. She already knows the answer, but friends or not, she enjoys embarrassing Arthur. “Perhaps you just needed the right person to come along and prove to you that it’s real.”

He ducks his head and glances at Eames with a small smile. “Perhaps.”

Arthur barely ever says that he loves Eames in as many words, but it doesn’t matter when he makes it obvious enough. Still, later that night when the Cobbs have gone home and they’re undressing each other in their large bedroom, Arthur stops just for long enough to take Eames’ face in his hands, pulling him in for a deep kiss and whispers, “I love you.”

Eames’ smile is soft and—beautiful—Arthur decides, not even ashamed for thinking it. He’s still smiling as he lowers Arthur onto their bed, kissing whatever skin he reaches, up his neck and along his jaw.

“I love you too,” he murmurs, lips brushing against Arthur’s before they kiss again.

For a long time, Arthur has never expected to live past this point, but here he is; with Eames, alive, and he knows that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

End.

In which I thank everybody ever:
• Dear

distracterisey, thank you for being such an amazing artist, for being so fun to work with and bounce ideas off.
Thanks for the encouragement, the company, and all the wonderful crack along the way xD ♥ ♥ ♥
• Thank you to

hesselives because without you, this would be an entirely different story and I wouldn't be half as happy with it.
Thank you for telling me what I needed to hear! ♥
• To

ilovetakahana and

butterflythread, you guys are life savers, thank you so much for your help! ♥
• Thank you to the